He is known worldwide as "Boston Billy" for his four wins at his adopted city's fabled marathon. But above all else, Bill Rodgers is a father and a brother. When he heard about the bombings at the marathon Monday afternoon, his first thoughts were of his daughter and his brother, both spectators. Usually, Rodgers watches the race in person, but he stayed home this year after several busy days signing copies of his new autobiography "Marathon Man" at pre-race events.

"I had no idea where she was, but I called her cellphone, got her right away and she was down at Boston Common and safe," said Rodgers of his daughter during a phone interview from his Boxborough, Mass., home Thursday. His brother, Charlie Rodgers, was also unharmed.

You don't need to be a marathon champ to have fans along the course. Strangers call out encouragement to all runners. I've had family and friends travel as far as Minnesota and Maine to cheer for me in marathons.

Recently, my fan base has expanded to include my children. And those little boys — age 3 and 6 months — are the biggest reason the tragedies in Sandy Hook, and now Boston, have left me terrified and angry. Anyone who has ever completed a marathon knows what an exhilarating and grueling experience it is. I have never run Boston, but I have finished other large races, like New York and Chicago. The thunderous din of spectators rooting for me as I labored through those final 100 yards is a sound I'll never forget.

I knew these cheering throngs hadn't run 26.2 miles — many were sipping coffee and munching on doughnuts — but they stood there celebrating me, offering that final boost I needed when it seemed I couldn't move another inch. Half of me wondered why I put myself through this agony, while the other gloried in the achievement and the welcome acclaim of strangers who recognized my effort.

Above the finish line, there is always the clock.

The race clock time on Monday was especially unsettling for me. The first bomb went off at 4:09. That's around the time I might finish a marathon.

Boston's allure is not only its 117-year history, but the fact that not everybody can run it. You have to qualify — either by time or raising money and running for a charity. "Have you run Boston?" is a question lobbed at all serious runners. When you hit that finish line, you've reached a rarefied tier of runners. The finish line is the place that you reunite with loved ones who have been standing around all day — sometimes in sweltering heat, sometimes rain, sometimes freezing cold — waiting for that split-second when they can joyously shout your name.

By the fourth hour, the elite runners are in their hotel rooms and it's the amateurs who are on the cusp of this milestone. It was their families — and might have been mine — on the sidelines Monday.

For Rodgers, the bombings were an attack on his extended family. Rodgers, long considered the biggest ambassador to the sport of running, has some fighting words.

"It was such a dumb, dumb thing on their behalf and we are looking forward to their capture," he said. "Runners are very nuts-and-bolts-type people. They are strong-minded, focused and patriotic. Those people made their move, and now we make ours."

Rodgers' solution is for runners to keep at it, to run more. Do that first 5K, he preaches, and your life will change. I subscribe to his running Gospel. Running is my path to health, physical and psychological. I cherish my early morning runs as a time for me to unwind.

Sometimes, however, I feel guilty that time spent pounding the pavement is time I could be with my children. But I have a photograph at my desk of my son giving me a high-five during a 10K I ran when he was 6 months old. There is pure joy in both of our faces. I know I am setting a good example for him. And I know he supports me, whether I'm the fastest or the slowest runner in the race.

When I heard that one of the injured was 2 years old, I flinched. I considered whether this attack would change how I view that finish line. Would I want my kids sitting in bleachers at the end of a big race? If I were to take Rodgers' words to heart, I would say, "Bring it on." Maybe when I have the miles on me that he has, I'll feel the same. But now, looking at the faces of runners with their legs blown off, I find that sort of resolve elusive. I'll get there, but for now, it's one mile at a time, one tragedy after another.

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